


Five times Fenris cuddled someone...

by Aurrus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Cuddles, Fenris is a cuddly drunk, M/M, drunk!Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurrus/pseuds/Aurrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and one time he was cuddled back, all in the span of one evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Fenris cuddled someone...

**Author's Note:**

> A [prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15195.html?thread=58426459#t58426459) fill from DA kinkmeme:  
> 
>
>> Fenris always drinks alone because he’d rather go back to Tevinter than let people find out. But there’s one celebration he can’t skip, and he drinks more than he planned…

~*~1~*~

Usually Fenris preferred drinking in the safety of his old, rickety, blessedly empty mansion, alone – because whenever he got drunk, he desperately longed for simple contact, and that was the last thing he wanted his friends to know. In the mansion, however, he only had skeletons for company, and they were not exactly the cuddly type, so the need usually subsided.

But even he couldn’t deny that Hawke defeating Arishok was calling for a celebration, one he couldn’t miss – and frankly, one he didn’t want to miss, if he were honest. He was no less relieved than anyone else, and at the moment he couldn’t care less what getting drunk in company meant for him – they won, the Qunari left Kirkwall for good, Isabela returned with the relic, Hawke was still alive and kicking, and the city, miraculously, was still standing.

Who cared what he did? Everyone was a little stupid.

“Hawke!” He exclaimed when he saw Hawke make his way towards their table, finally free from grateful admirers that wanted to congratulate him on his new title. “Hawke…”

Hawke chuckled when Fenris all but fell into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck both from the need to stay standing and from a surge of affectionate warmth in his chest. 

“You are alive,” he stated firmly, blinking in attempt to focus on Hawke’s face. Hawke grinned, proud and tired, and patted his shoulder.

“Takes more than a giant Qunari leader with a huge axe to get rid of me,” he winked and helped Fenris back to the chair, much to his chagrin – Hawke’s burly chest was a much more pleasant place to rest, in Fenris’ opinion. “We’ll have some words about arranging my duels for me later, though.”

Fenris pouted and slumped in his chair, watching the Champion get swarmed by another crowd of slightly panicked, but relieved nobles that looked completely ridiculous in the Hanged Man.

He eyed his bottle of wine critically. It was far too empty for his tastes and proved to be a bad company; such a betrayal.

~*~2~*~

“Isabela,” he muttered into the pirate’s ear, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and putting his chin on her shoulder, clutching tightly when she jumped a little from the unexpected touch, “I’m… glad to see you returned.”

Isabela giglled and patted his hand, gulping down her whisky and slamming the glass back onto the bar table.

“ _Now_ he has to return my affections,” she purred and sighed with a mock regret. “I hate to turn you down, gorgeous, but…”

She gently unclasped his hands and turned around to face him.

“I’m afraid I already have arrangements for tonight,” she said wistfully. “Perhaps another time?”

Fenris grunted and scowled at her. He wasn’t interested in any arrangements with the woman, he only wanted some company – on the other hand, perhaps it was for the best; her perception of company might’ve been… too much for him. He shook his head and offered a lopsided smile before making a hasty retreat.

~*~3~*~

Varric, Fenris decided, wasn’t suited for cuddles very well, even if he didn’t seem to mind the elf dozing on his shoulder. 

Fenris, however, did mind his cramping neck and Varric’s incessant scribbling, so eventually he had to let go.

He needed another drink, anyway, and he hoped that it sufficed for an excuse.

~*~4~*~

The Knight-Captain looked even more ridiculous among the Hanged Man patrons than the nobles, and Fenris just _had_ to hug him.

“Oh,” Cullen mumbled, not sure what to do with an armful of drunk elf. 

“Indeed,” Fenris agreed, miserably realizing that the Templar’s armor wasn’t the best attire for such affairs. “Have, uh. A good time.”

“Um… you too,” Cullen replied warily, watching Fenris make his way back to the bar.

~*~5~*~

Donnic was Fenris’ new best friend for almost half an hour as he cuddled to the guardsman on the bench, listening him speak to a few other guards, before Aveline appeared, and Fenris all but fell on his side when Donnic hastily got up to greet her – although he paused to adjust Fenris, which saved him from being banned from the list of his friends at all, at the very least.

Still, it meant that in the room bursting full of people Fenris still had no one to keep him company and just enough of alcohol in his system to feel increasingly lonely as the night progressed. He snatched his last bottle of wine, almost half-empty already, and miserably walked upstairs to Varric’s suit, which was abandoned for the moment in favor of the commotion on the first floor.

At least there he could be lonely on his own, which, to him, somehow made sense. Also there was always hope that he would finally drink himself to sleep and forget this embarrassment.

~*~+1~*~

“Oh, you’re here,” Anders blurted out some time later, hesitating at the door to the suit, where Fenris was still just as lonely and very much not asleep. “Do you… mind some company?”

Fenris perked up at that – too drunk to care of his reaction – and shook his head, patting the bench beside him.

Anders laughed and obediently sat down – and laughed some more when Fenris immediately snaked his arms around his waist and pressed into his side.

“I really hope you won’t eviscerate me later, when you sober up,” Anders joked weakly, wrapping his arm around Fenris shoulders. Fenris let his eyes fall shut and smiled, humming pleasantly at the sensation and leaning into the touch.

“I won’t,” he promised, rubbing his cheek on the mage’s feathery pauldron. 

Above him, Anders huffed, hugging him tighter and stroking his shoulder.

“Maker preserve me,” he sighed. “I don’t know if I should feel guilty for taking advantage of you or giddy to find out you’re one cuddly bastard when you’re drunk.”

Fenris frowned and gently head-butted him, to which Anders hesitatingly lifted his other hand and stroked his hair. Fenris purred and melted into him.

“You’re like a big cat,” Anders muttered, almost in awe. “I think we totally should get you drunk more often.”

If it meant fingers running through his hair just like that, gently scratching his scalp, and hands wrapped around him tightly, Fenris couldn’t agree more.


End file.
